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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343063">Unprecedented Times</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis'>Nokomis</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, M/M, quarantine fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:42:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343063</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nokomis/pseuds/Nokomis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is handling quarantine like a champ and is absolutely not pestering Derek at all. And definitely not because of a crush.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Melissa McCall/Sheriff Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>585</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unprecedented Times</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Lielabell, who wanted Sterek covid socially distancing fluff. ♥  Haven't written Teen Wolf in a while, so just pretend like this takes place in an idyllic timeline where everyone is living their best lives.  Originally posted on tumblr <a href="https://nokomiss.tumblr.com/post/618941527713071104/unprecedented-times">here.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinski Mission Log: Day 2</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>It has been over forty-eight entire hours since having contact with the human world. Built a fort out of the toilet paper Dad commandeered from the convenience store. (okay, bought, whatever.)  Plan on living out of the fort until the world returns to normal. </b>
  </i>
</p><p>Stiles was like, the best person ever to be quarantined. Like, seriously. He had an entire internet full of interesting information at his fingertips, and he absolutely did not miss Scott, and there was zero chance at all of him going all cabin fever-y and chopping through doors like Jack Nicholson.  </p><p>Zero. He was so fucking chill with not seeing or touching or being near anyone. He was going pull off this shit like <i>The Martian</i>. He wasn’t going to lose his shit at all.</p><p>Seriously.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinski Mission Log: Day 3</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Friends have abandoned me to my fate. No one is willing to rescue me from my boredom. Have tried calling most boring person possible and he managed to scowl at me over the phone. Not even video, just… an audio scowl. Probably should have recorded that for posterity. </b>
  </i>
</p><p>“But you’re immune, right? So just come on over,” Stiles whined into his phone.</p><p>“We have no way of knowing that,” Derek said firmly.  Apparently he and Scott had been sharing notes, because that was exactly what he’d told Stiles, too.</p><p>“Uh, you’re a werewolf who has never had so much as sniffle? Dude, you’re invincible,” Stiles said.  </p><p>Derek sighed, and Stiles did his best to not memorize the way it sounded in his ear for replaying later on during Special Stiles Time. “Stiles. I’m not breaking quarantine just because you’re bored. It’s been two days.”</p><p>“Uh, it has now been three days, thank you very much,” Stiles informed Derek. “And I think that, if you look at the science, you’re wrong.”</p><p>“Goodbye, Stiles,” Derek said. </p><p>“Wait! At least sing me a song--” but Derek hung up, leaving Stiles stuck in the wasteland that was his room, alone except for Netflix and Fort TP.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinski Mission Log: Day 6</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Fort TP has become a refuge in these troubled times. Have installed christmas lights and a Ouija board, but so far have been unable to contact any interesting conversationalists.  Had brilliant thought about creating a vaccine using werewolf dna, but realized that would infect people  with lycanthropy which potentially could cause even more problems long term. </b>
  </i>
</p><p>Stiles, after suffering through an online class that was seventy percent his professor talking about the fact that it was an online class, thought he should treat himself,  so he video-called Scott.  </p><p>Scott was deemed essential, since puppies need to be fed and walked and taken care of, so Stiles got to take a tour of the vet’s office and make cooing noises at all the puppers that Scott introduced him to.  It was easily the highlight of his week.  </p><p>After Scott introduced him to a particularly charming shepherd, Stiles casually asked, “So you’ve been in town the last few months… how’s ole grumpypants holding up? Still sad and alone?”</p><p>Scott looked up from the dog, and gave Stiles the exact same look he’d just given a beagle who had fruitlessly tried to steal treats from the counter.  “Are you asking if Derek is single?”</p><p>“Uh, no, I was asking after his mental well-being,” Stiles said defensively.</p><p>“He has the pack,” Scott said. He grinned at Stiles. “Single, though. He mentioned you called him.”</p><p>“I never.. I was just <i>bored</i>,” Stiles said and abruptly hung up the phone, even though it meant not seeing the shepherd dance with Scott.  </p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinksi Mission Log: Day 15</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Have new working theory that Beacon Hills is actually under a curse. Maybe i should learn magic to break the spell and return life to normal. Well. What passes for normal around here. </b>
  </i>
</p><p>“So like, I’ve had so much time to think, and I realized that this is like freaking utopia for you,” Stiles said.  He had chosen to ignore Scott’s teasing and continued to call Derek daily, because Derek was sad enough, he definitely needed the cheering-up that Stiles could provide.</p><p>“Is it really?” Derek’s eyebrows did the thing that they do, like they’re emojis punctuating his sentences. Like billboards over Derek’s eyes flashing the eyeroll emoji.</p><p>“I mean, brooding, staying at home, not talking to anyone… you must teach me the secrets of your ways,” Stiles said. “It’s totally unfair how good at this you are. Look at you, my man. Lemme see what you’re wearing. Are those actual <i>jeans</i>?”</p><p>Derek shifted the camera to focus solely on his face. “Stiles, please tell me you’re wearing pants.”</p><p>“Of course I am,” Stiles lied, even though the first rule of Fort TP was No Pants Allowed. And actually, if he was British, he wouldn’t even be lying, a fact that he considered telling Derek smugly before deciding to let it drop.  Not his underwear, but the topic. </p><p>Not that he would be opposed to dropping his underwear for Derek, but that was neither here nor there. And a topic totally under the purview of ‘things Stiles didn’t let himself think about while actively having a conversation with Hottie McEyebrows.’</p><p>Stiles was so desperately horny, was the problem though. It wasn’t that he had an active dating life at college, but he at least had contact with other humans and that somehow made jerking off in the shower less depressing.</p><p>And he didn’t regularly video chat with Derek while at college, either, which… possibly was a contributing factor. Derek’s face should be illegal, seriously.</p><p>“If you don’t have any more insults for me,” Derek said, “I’m gonna go now.”</p><p>“And do what?” Stiles said, hoping for an exciting answer. “Gimme some ideas, Dere-bear.”</p><p>Derek blinked a few startled times, looking more like a confused kitten than the werewolf he was, and then said, “I’m going to just. Go. Now.”</p><p>Stiles tried to stop him, but the annoying thing about video calls was that he couldn’t fling himself bodily in front of the end-call button.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinksi Mission Log: Day 16</b>
  </i>
</p><p><i><b>Is it normal to miss standing in lines? </b></i> </p><p> </p><p>When Derek answered, his hair was wet and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Water droplets rolled slowly down his pecs, as if in slow motion. </p><p>Stiles made a sound previously only heard from Muppets and turned off his phone.</p><p>Mortified, he didn’t call Derek again for two days, even though he hovered his finger longingly over his name at least once an hour.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinksi Mission Log: Day 18</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>A positive in all this: hiding your face in shame is so, so much easier. </b>
  </i>
</p><p>Stiles kept replaying the noise he had made upon seeing Derek’s glistening torso -- and it wasn’t even like he’d never seen Derek’s shirtless body, seriously, sometimes it was like Derek was <i>allergic</i> to shirts, and when he did wear them, they were so stupidly tight that they might as well not even exist at all, and his reaction had been --</p><p>Well, his reaction had been what his reaction always was, only this time in his outside-voice.</p><p>Probably he was making it weirder by  not calling Derek for his daily dose of entertainment. Since Derek had to be aware of Stiles’s hormonal reaction to him. He was a werewolf. He could probably sense horny from a mile away.</p><p>Though that theory was shot down a bit by exactly how many teenagers Derek had spent prolonged amounts of time with. Stiles sent Scott a slightly panicked <i>do werewolves smell boners</i> text that he immediately regretted.</p><p>Scott immediately responded with an upside-down smiley face and <i>not through the phone</i>.</p><p>Scott was easily the worst best friend ever. Easily.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinksi Mission Log: Day Whatever</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Fort TP is dwindling alarmingly. Must venture into the wastelands to procure building materials. </b>
  </i>
</p><p>The grocery store, as it turned out, was still there.  Still just standing in the parking lot, lights on, shelves at least mostly full of food and essentials.</p><p>Not the essential Stiles was after, though.</p><p>He was staring woefully at the empty shelves when he heard the squeak of a cart turning into the aisle, then stopping abruptly.</p><p>“Hey, you’re going the wrong way down a one-way---” Stiles began, then stopped just as abruptly as the cart as he realized he was bitching at <i>Derek.</i></p><p>Derek looked like he wanted to slink away into the shadows, but unfortunately for him, no shadows were to be found in the toilet paper aisle.  He was wearing a pink floral mask that looked absolutely precious with his leather jacket, and Stiles felt his mouth quirk up into a snicker.</p><p>“What?” Derek said defensively.</p><p>“You look cute,” Stiles said, which was true on oh so many levels, and he was so happy that his own mask (plaid and not nearly as festive) covered the blush that resulted.  Looking closer, he could see that it wasn’t a pink floral mask, but rather, a pink mask covered in tiny pastel chibi wolves.</p><p>“Cora thinks she’s funny.”  </p><p>“Cora is my favorite Hale,” Stiles said cheerfully, a total lie, but worth it to see Derek’s eyebrows veer together crankily.  </p><p>He edged his cart closer.  Close enough that he could tell that Derek, besides having put on actual jeans and leather jacket to venture to the grocery store, also smelled unfairly good. Stiles was pretty sure he smelled like Fruit Loops, and he was wearing sweatpants with a threadbare Beacon Hills t-shirt. </p><p>Derek was absolutely close enough to smell him, and his conversation with Scott flashed through his mind like it was accompanied by the Kill Bill sirens. Whatever happened, he couldn’t let Derek know how desperately he wanted him.  </p><p>Their carts were facing each other, creating a socially responsible barrier that Stiles had never resented so fully until this moment.  “They’re out,” he said dumbly, gesturing towards the empty toilet paper shelves.</p><p>“Um, isn’t your little house made of toilet paper?” Derek asked. “Do you  really need more?”</p><p>“It’s a fort, thank you very much,” Stiles said with great dignity.  </p><p>“Sorry?” </p><p>Stiles wondered why Derek always looked so wrong-footed when he was talking to him. </p><p> “It’s really nice to see you in person,” he blurted out, because apparently a side effect of never seeing people in the flesh was forgetting how to have a normal interaction with them.</p><p>But then Derek’s eyes crinkled in a way that showed he was actually smiling under his mask, and wow, Stiles hated that mask for obscuring <i>that</i> view, and said, “Yeah, it is.”</p><p>“Wanna shop together?” Stiles asked, because he was unwilling to walk away.</p><p>Derek nodded, and the next hour was the best Stiles had spent in months. Possibly ever, even though he never got to get any closer than six feet away.  An entire Derek length, he thought ridiculously. A prone Derek on the floor, that was the distance they had to keep.</p><p>Stiles bought way too much junk food and made fun of Derek’s basic groceries.  Leaving in separate cars felt like torture.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinksi Mission Log: Day 19</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Contemplating trips to the grocery store in hopes of bumping into… someone you know… is not socially responsible. Don’t do it, Stilinski.</b>
  </i>
</p><p>“Stiles, you realize it’s only been a few weeks, right?” Lydia said.  He could hear the tapping of her fingertips on a keyboard in the background, and of course Lydia was still motivated enough to do schoolwork, even when talking to someone as brilliant and entertaining as Stiles.</p><p>“Lydia. You’re a genius, you know perfectly well we’ve been at this for 456 agonizing hours.”  Stiles was honestly disappointed; he’d thought that Lydia would understand his plight.</p><p>“I know, I’ve actually had the time to thoroughly research my final paper,” Lydia said happily. “I’m thinking of trying to get it published.”</p><p>“Yeah, I totally am doing that with my papers, too,” Stiles said, which. Theoretically he could, as none of his final papers had been written yet. Probably he could make a scientific breakthrough if he really wanted to.</p><p>“Uh-huh,” said Lydia, who knew him entirely too well. “So what’s your quarantine hyperfixation been? Please don’t say that tiger guy.”</p><p>“Nope,” Stiles said. “Not a tiger guy.”</p><p>“A wolf guy maybe?” Lydia’s voice was sly.</p><p>“What did Scott tell you?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Lydia sing-songed. “Allison, on the other hand, mentioned that you’re mooning over Tall, Dark and Moody.”</p><p>“I am not mooning! I have never mooned in my <i>life</i>,” Stiles protested.</p><p>Lydia’s silence was pointed and devastating.</p><p>“Okay,” Stiles said, because she had a fair point. “Maybe I’ve been known to moon gently over someone. But. I mean. You’ve seen him. You know what a trainwreck of precious proportions he is. I mean. I can’t help it!”</p><p>“Oh, sweetie,” Lydia said gently. “You’ve got it bad.”</p><p>Stiles couldn’t even argue.  He was so fucked.</p><p>*</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>Official Stilinksi Mission Log: Day 27</b>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <b>What a beautiful day in the neighborhood.</b>
  </i>
</p><p>Stiles practically skipped down the stairs, awash in his own brilliance. Building a pantry onto Fort TP was something he couldn’t believe it took him nearly thirty days to come up with.</p><p>Well, maybe he could. Things were starting to get a little fuzzy. Probably he should be putting more effort into his schoolwork.</p><p>He heard voices as he turned into the living room, but didn’t think anything of it until the couch and table came into view. Well, more notably, his father’s open laptop, full-screened onto an image of Melissa McCall with her shirt flung open.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Stiles said as Melissa echoed him and jerked her shirt closed.</p><p>“Oh my god,” said the Sheriff, and while his shirt was blissfully on, his pants were clearly unbuttoned, belt hanging open. “I forgot you were here.”</p><p>Stiles clamped his hand over his eyes, but his mind traitorously kept replaying the one-second image of Scott’s mom’s tits. “Where else would I <i>be</i>?”</p><p>There was a telling silence, and okay, maybe Stiles’ brain wasn’t the only fuzzy one around here.</p><p>“I’m just gonna…” Stiles kept his hand over his eyes resolutely as he backed out of the living room towards the front door. “Leave. Now.”</p><p>“You don’t have to--” his dad said, though even to Stiles’ ears it didn’t sound sincere.</p><p>“Bye,” Stiles said, flinging himself out the front door and finally removing his hand from his eyes. Then he remembered, oh yeah, keys are a thing that exist, and knocked loudly before opening the door again and grabbing them.</p><p>Stiles drove aimlessly around town, drumming his fingertips on his steering wheel, full of nervous energy. He thought about calling Scott, but he didn’t trust himself to not blurt out something about how great his mom’s tits were, so he decided that only one of them truly needed to be traumatized this day. Things were rough enough as is.</p><p>Eventually, aimless driving led him to the parking lot outside Derek’s loft.  Stiles sat in the Jeep for a few long moments, trying to decide whether this was a good idea or not, before deciding, <i>fuck it</i>.</p><p>He went inside.  Knocked on Derek’s door, like that was a normal thing he did all the time. And when Derek opened a few moments later, a confused look on his face, Stiles further added to his confusion by flinging himself forward.  His rough plan had been to hug him -- it had been <i>so long</i> since he’d had physical contact -- but apparently his body didn’t quite get that memo and instead he kissed him, full on the lips.</p><p>“Mmrph?” Derek said into his mouth, which -- okay, that made it even <i>better</i>.  Derek seemed to think so, too, as the kiss lasted way longer than an impulsive greeting-kiss between friends ought to. Probably included more tongue, too, but who was Stiles to say that wasn’t normal.</p><p>When they broke apart, panting, and Derek looking almost preciously confused, Stiles said, “Hey, now we have to quarantine together. Neat.”</p><p>“What?” Derek blinked at him a few times.</p><p>Stiles pushed his way into Derek’s loft, glorying in how different it was from his own room, and said, “I’m just gonna hang out here until the plague’s up.”</p><p>He headed over to the sink, washing his hands like a responsible house guest as he explained the situation. “And they were doing that right there, in front of my Twizzlers!” he concluded.  </p><p>Derek just said, “Everyone’s a little frustrated right now…” like he thought that the Sheriff had every right to have sexy video meetings right there in the living room.</p><p>“Of course we are!” Stiles exclaimed, inadvertently flinging soap across the room. He finished rinsing his hands as he said, “but we keep that shit to our bedrooms and the shower, right?”</p><p>There was a faint flush to Derek’s unfairly beautiful cheekbones, and -- oh, okay, so maybe Derek didn’t. Stiles cast his eyes around the room and felt a montage of Derek having Special Derek Time in various spots around the loft flash before his eyes. Probably now Derek wasn’t the only one blushing.</p><p>“Well,” Stiles said. “I mean.” He looked around again. “As your house guest, I grant you full permission to do… whatever you like… in the living room.”</p><p>“Gracious of you,” Derek muttered. Then he looked back at the door. “Wait, house guest? You don’t even have bags.”</p><p>Stiles didn’t. Stiles decided to brazen it out. “Where we’re going, I won’t need bags. Or clothes. Hopefully?”</p><p>Derek blinked at him again, and Stiles decided that meant to go for it, so he kissed him again, this time with intent.</p><p>“Yeah, okay, it is unprecedented times,” Derek mumbled into his mouth. “Clothes are very much optional.”</p><p>Stiles didn’t need to be told twice.</p>
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